Legacy
by clinically.repressed
Summary: It's 19 years after the battle of Hogwarts, and all is right with the wizarding world. Or is it? Scorpius Malfoy is the first child of a known Death Eater to attend Hogwarts, but he is determined to get out from under his fathers shadow and make his own name. But how can he do that with all the strange and nefarious goings-ons at Hogwarts being constantly pinned on him?
1. Chapter 1

"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him." ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Evil.

Probably the harshest four letter word in the English language; an abused and misused term meaning profoundly immoral and malevolent. A word commonly tied up with the darkest wizard in living memory – Lord Voldemort. A word that also seemed to whisper across hallways in which Scorpius Malfoy walked, bouncing from tapestry to tapestry. He saw it mirrored in the eyes of his classmates, imprinted in the set of their mouths.

"His father was a Death Eater." whispered a Ravenclaw girl to her friends as he passed their table in the Great Hall. The tiny blonde next to her gasped in horror, as if his father's Death Eater status somehow made Scorpius himself the Dark Lord reincarnate. He ignored them, continuing his trek across the enormous hall. As he passed the Hufflepuff table, a small blueberry was flicked at him. He ignored it as it bounced off his very new Hogwarts robes, maintaining a stoic expression amid the snickering now emanating from a group of young Hufflepuff boys near the end of their long table. Finally, he had reached his own table; a place where he truly belonged and was absolutely accepted despite his family name. Dozens of eyes glared at him hatefully as he took his seat amongst his new Hogwarts family – the Gryffindor table. The two Gryffindors that had been sitting in the seats on either side of Scorpius immediately vacated to different parts of the table, and he smiled grimly at his little joke. This had been Scorpius Malfoy's life ever since arriving at Hogwarts. His father had warned him that there would be other students who didn't like him.

"Such is the life of a pureblood in this day and age," His father had proclaimed mournfully, "prejudice at every turn." His mother nodded from behind her book. "But you will make friends in Slytherin – there are still some who respect tradition." Scorpius wanted to ask what would happen if he wasn't in Slytherin, but the question had caught in his throat. The thought had obviously never occurred to his father, and Scorpius wasn't sure he wanted it to.

Scorpius was the first and only descendant of a Death Eater attending Hogwarts since Voldemorts death, seeing as the rest had been either killed or locked up tight in Azkaban – including his grandparents. He was not sure if he was glad or not that he was the only one; on the one hand, it would have been nice to have someone who knew what he was going through, but on the other side of things, he wasn't sure if that was the kind of person he'd want to align himself with anyways. The only people who didn't hate him for being a Malfoy were the Slytherins. They, however, hated him for being a Gryffindor.

"Hey, Malfoy!" crowed a mocking voice. "How goes it, mate?" Scorpius looked up to find a boy who looked a little older than him standing opposite him with both hands resting confidently on the long wooden table. He recognized him easily as one of the Potter boys, as he had heard many other Gryffindors call out to him in the few days Scorpius had been attending Hogwarts. He made no reply, which Potter clearly found annoying because his smirk quickly melted into a scowl. "I'm talking to you, Malfoy. Didn't your Death Eater daddy teach you any manners?" Scorpius glared sharply into Potter's eyes, his fist involuntarily clenching around his fork. Potter didn't miss this small movement, and the amusement returned to his face.

"Ooh, touchy subject…" Scorpius heard Potter's friend mutter from a couple of seats down, and there was a chorus of sniggers amongst the surrounding Gryffindors. Potter glanced up towards the front of the Great Hall, Scorpius following his gaze to find that the professors of Hogwarts were all chatting amicably with each other or looking down at their plates. None of the professors were looking in their direction. Before he even had a chance to register what this meant for him, Scorpius' robes were soaked in pumpkin juice. He stared at the overturned pitcher in front of him in silence while the Gryffindor table broke out into laughter. Scorpius couldn't resist – he looked back up at Potter, who was laughing harder than anyone. His eyes scanned the table, stopping briefly on a prefect girl who was not laughing but refused to look in his direction. He felt his face burning so hot it was painful, and to his utter humiliation, his eyes began to sting.

"Are… are you going to _cry_?" Potter exclaimed loudly, and some of the laughter died out as the older Gryffindors began to look a little uncomfortable. Scorpius stared down at the table, steeling himself against the watering of his eyes.

"Shove off, James." An angry voice demanded from a few seats to his left. Every head turned to face a small boy in Scorpius' year, curious to see who had intervened in Potter's punishment of the Death Eater spawn. It was the other Potter boy, Albus. The two brothers faced off from a few feet away, similar in appearance but obviously differently humored.

"Mind your own, Albus. He's the son of a Death Eater." James snapped as though this was a crime punishable by death. "You know who his father is – he's the only one who didn't go to Askaban for his crimes. He probably killed tons of good-"

"My father never killed anyone." Scorpius cut him off sharply. James rounded back on him, his face reddening with anger.

"Oh, that's what _he _told you, is it? Pardon me if I don't take his word for it. Your father is Death Eater scum, and as far as I'm concerned, so are you!" Potter's hazel eyes pierced Scorpius with hatred, pinning him to his seat. Then, an older Gryffindor issued a whispered warning to Potter, who quickly returned to his own seat as the Gryffindor head of house moved over to the table where the students were quickly resuming their breakfast.

"What's going on, why is everyone pretending they can't see me?" Professor Longbottom asked the table good-naturedly, rubbing his round face with a calloused hand. At this some of the Gryffindor's grinned at him, but nobody spoke a word. Scorpius kept his eyes on the table, but could feel Professor Longbottom strolling towards him, probably guessing where the problems had originated. "Malfoy? Why are you soaking wet?" At this, a wave of snickers broke out along the table and Scorpius spied Potter's friend elbowing each other impishly.

"Exaresco." Longbottom muttered with a swiping motion of his wand, effectively drying Scorpius's robes. He looked up at the kind face of his Herbology professor, searching Longbottom's blue eyes for the hatred he found in those of his peers.

"It was an accident." Scorpius lied. Longbottom clearly wasn't buying it.

"You don't have to cover for anyone, you can tell me. Who did this?" The young professor scanned Scorpius's unwavering expression.

"I spilled it, it was a mistake. Truly." He said urgently, forcing himself not to look in Potter's direction. Longbottom sighed and faced the rest of the table looking disappointed.

"This kind of treatment of a classmate is unacceptable, particularly a fellow Gryffindor. Ten points from Gryffindor will be taken. I don't want this to be a reoccurring issue." He promptly left them for the professors table, leaving the sting of disappointment lingering behind him. The surrounding students stayed unusually quiet after Professor Longbottom's reprimand, and Scorpius got the impression that he was very well liked among the Gryffindors. That was good, Scorpius thought to himself, because he wasn't especially frightening.

The rest of breakfast was finished without incident, though Scorpius didn't bank on that lasting throughout the day. He was one of the first students to leave, partly because he wanted to hurry and find his History of Magic classroom and partly because it was unbearably awkward to stay. He arrived at the classroom ten minutes earlier than everyone else and picked a seat in the back corner to wait, pulling out his Charms textbook to pass the time. Slowly the class filled with Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, but Scorpius kept his eyes glued to the book in a stout refusal to acknowledge his peers. He was, however, very aware of the scraping of the neighboring chair as someone pulled it back and took a seat. Though there was a bubbling chatter throughout the room, the silence between him and whoever had taken the seat beside him was making Scorpius feel quite awkward. He glanced to his left, his eyes masked by the platinum hair that he had begun to wear down rather than slicked back as he had back home, to spy on whoever had broken the unspoken 'Avoid Malfoy' rule.

Albus Potter was scribbling on a parchment with his potions book open, obviously getting a head start on the potions essay that they had been assigned yesterday. Scorpius watched him for a couple moments before returning to his book. The awkward feeling lasted for the entirety of Professor Binns class, and Scorpius was grateful when it was time to leave. They packed their bags along with the rest of the students and left the classroom without a word to the other.


	2. Chapter 2

Albus Potters rather odd behavior didn't end with the one History of Magic lesson where he had shocked Scorpius, along with the other Gryffindors to be sure, by taking the perpetually vacant seat to Scorpius' left. To his absolute horror, Potter continued to silently occupy the seat beside Scorpius in every lesson excepting the ones they had with the Ravenclaws, where Potter was quite friendly with a red headed Ravenclaw that he thought was called Weasley. One might think that Scorpius would be grateful for the companionship, no matter how silent, but they would be quite wrong in that belief for a couple of reasons. Scorpius couldn't be sure what Potter meant by it all – they weren't mates; they weren't even really acquaintances. That left it open to the possibility that there was some kind of harm meant that he had yet to foresee. At the very least, it was most definitely distracting his studies. It wasn't as though Potter was loud while going about his business, in fact quite the opposite. The dark haired boy gave Scorpius the impression that he had never even raised his voice in all his life. It was more the strangeness of it all. If Potter had spoken to him even once, then Scorpius could assume that he either wanted to be friends – or wanted to _look _like he wanted to be friends at the very least. Then maybe there was some kind of practical joke coming his way, or possibly Potter would be getting an early run at becoming a prefect. Befriending the class outcast would look good in any teacher's book, Scorpius thought to himself touchily.

On more than one occasion Scorpius had decided he would just out Potter and make him answer for his actions, but every time the chair next to him scraped back, Scorpius kept his eyes on his desk and listened to the rustling of his neighbor pulling out parchment, quill, and textbook. It wasn't until double potions on Friday that any new developments occurred. The Gryffindor and Slytherin first years waited outside the large wooden door that would open up to their first ever potions lesson with an atmosphere of nervousness and tension hanging in the air, alongside the ever present chill of the dungeons. The nervousness mostly arose from the Gryffindor students, who had heard that the potions professor was the cruelest of all the professors at Hogwarts. She also acted as the Slytherin head of house, making things doubly bad for the young Gryffindors. She had been late to return for the new term for "unspecified reasons", but it seemed nobody around Hogwarts had really minded except for the Slytherins. The tension was semi-constant between the two opposing houses - no fights had yet broken out between the first years this term, but Scorpius doubted it would be much longer until someone snapped.

The large group of first years was completely silent, so it was easy to pick up the clicking of an approaching someone's shoes coming from deeper inside the bowls of the dungeons.

"I think she's coming!" Stacey Midgens, a Gryffindor girl, whispered to her blonde haired friend unnecessarily. A somewhat short woman that Scorpius recognized from the meals in the Great Hall was walking swiftly towards them, her eyes focused dispassionately somewhere over their heads. Robes rustled uneasily all around him as students seemed to move away from the approaching woman.

"If I ever arrive at this classroom again to find a crowd of foolish Gryffindors blocking the corridor, every single one of you will receive a detention. Form a line." The group of first years stared at her, a few of the Gryffindors looking affronted while most of the kids in the corridor just looked frightened. "A line! Now!" She snapped impatiently, and they all scrambled to line up against the somewhat damp stone wall. One of the Slytherin boys who's name Scorpius didn't know moved so fast to get in line that his head bounced hard against the corridor wall. The professor shot an annoyed glance at the boy before unlocking the door and striding into the potions classroom, heels still clicking. The students followed hesitantly, filing through the door one by one and settling themselves at tables together. Too late Scorpius realized his great misfortune. As he rounded the doorway and scanned the room he saw that as one of the last people to come through the door, there were only tables available in the very front of the room directly facing the fear-provoking witch they would call Professor. He was pausing a moment, attempting to ready himself for the guaranteed misery that awaited any Gryffindor that found themselves in front of Professor whoever, when someone called his name from the far end of the room. It was a quiet, purposeful voice that he'd scarcely heard before, but he knew to whom it would belong. Potter was sitting alone in the back corner, the only person who would have possibly called out to him. They looked at each other just for a moment and then Potter began to unpack his rucksack, letting Scorpius decide alone whether or not he would take the hand extended to him.

"Sit quickly, no dawdling!" The professor snapped, and Malfoy decided quickly not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He slid into the seat next to Potter, putting his bag and cauldron down a little too violently in his haste. Potter looked up, his startlingly green eyes wide with surprise.

"I uh… sorry." Malfoy mumbled embarrassedly, quickly unpacking his things and settling into his chair. Potter didn't respond, and they fell into their familiar silence. There were a few moments of parchment whispering against tables and chairs creaking as their hosts became comfortable – or as comfortable as anyone could be in the tense, damp atmosphere of the potions dungeon. The professor, her back towards the silent students, flicked her wand at the chalkboard situated at the front of the dungeon and almost immediately a chalk began to squeakily write out "Professor Parkinson". Professor Parkinson turned to glare at the class, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"There will be no speaking out of turn. There will be no wasting my time with stupid questions. Everything you need will be here." she flicked her wand at a brown cabinet that swung open to show a plethora of different pieces of animals, as well as bugs, fungi, vials of a strange liquid that looked suspiciously like blood, and much more than Scorpius could spy from his table across the room.

"Here." At this flick, the chalk began to write furiously upon the board.

"And here." The last flick flipped all of their textbooks open at the same time to Chapter 1, on which there were detailed instructions on drafting a cure for boils. "Begin."

For once, the silence between Scorpius and Potter didn't stand out since nobody in the class dared even to breathe too loudly. After a trip to the ingredient cabinet, Scorpius started on his potion, trying to move carefully and slowly as to not make any mistakes. After close to an hour of work, while waiting for his potion to come to a boil, Scorpius noticed that Potter had already taken his cauldron off the fire and was adding his porcupine quills. Panicking for a moment that he had been too slow, Scorpius eyed the other students work and saw many were on the same step or hadn't even gotten so far as he had. He looked back at Potter, who was stirring his potion now while it turned a deep red. Potter was quite good at potions, Scorpius noted, glancing over at his tablemates work every couple of minutes. He was about to add his own porcupine quills when a hand shot out, blocking his cauldrons opening. He couldn't catch the confused noise that escaped him due to Potters sudden and surprising move.

"Take it off the fire, first." Potter said quietly, continuing with his almost completed potion. Scorpius looked back down at his instructions and saw that Potter was right, quickly taking his cauldron off the fire with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude. Before he could utter his thanks, the *click, click, click* of heeled shoes on the stone floor rang across the room and Professor Parkinson was in front of their table in an instant.

"What is your name." She questioned Potter sharply, but cut him off before he could respond. "Potter." Parkinson muttered darkly, her rather squashed nose wrinkling with distaste.

"Yes." Potter responded uneasily, looking up at her with apprehensive eyes. She glared down at him for a couple long moments before speaking.

"Do you think you are the professor, Potter?" She asked him disdainfully, laying a stubby, manicured hand on their table.

"No."

"And who is the professor, Potter?" She questioned.

"You are, professor." He responded impassively. Parkinson's dark eyes glittered with pleasure at her little game.

"That's correct, Potter. 10 points will be taken from Gryffindor house for hindering the education of a fellow student." There were some quiet gasps from the Gryffindor's around the room, and Scorpius could feel himself becoming somehow even _more _despised by his classmates. "And you will receive Saturday detention."

"He shouldn't get a detention for my mistake!" Scorpius insisted loudly, surprising both Potter and Scorpius himself. Professor Parkinson revolved slowly on the spot to look at him for the first time. Her eyes searched his face and seemed to find something that she despised.

"What was that you were saying?" There was something poisonous in her words, a slight hiss in her diction. Scorpius faltered, feeling very small all of the sudden. He could see some of the Slytherins leering at each other, clearly excited to witness firsthand the abuse that Parkinson was famous for. Scorpius took in a deep breath and steeled himself.

"It was my fault. Don't punish Potter, he was only trying to help." Parkinson's eyes bore into his but he refused to break contact with them. Scorpius refused to back down after already digging himself so deep a hole. Finally, she smirked rather horribly and tossed her dark hair back.

"Potter and Malfoy. A little dream team, to be sure." Parkinson laughed derisively at her words, then waved her wand over the boys and their table. Scorpius' potion that he had spent the better part of an hour and a half on disappeared, along with Potter's perfect concoction. Mouths agape, the two boys stared up at their professor with disbelief. "And that's a detention for you too, Mr. Malfoy." She practically spat his name out onto the floor. With a sweeping of her long purple robes, Professor Parkinson clicked back to her desk to ignore them once more.

Scorpius and Potter didn't dare speak for the rest of the class, and packed up quickly while the other students were corking their boil cures and bringing them nervously to the front. They left hastily, worried that Professor Parkinson might want to come back for a second round. Neither said a word until they were safely out of the dungeons and back in the sunlight filtering from the high arched windows of the first floor.

"That woman is an absolute nightmare." Potter said finally, breaking the long silence. For whatever reason, though the points were lost and the grade failed, at this Scorpius could not contain the grin that began to split his face. Potter glanced at him as Scorpius attempted to regain his composure, and a small smile flitted across his lips. He shrugged unapologetically. "Well she is."

The boys burst into laughter, giddy after escaping the fear that choked them while in the dungeon with Parkinson. They joked and complained all the way to the common room, eventually tiring of the subject and deciding to play a couple rounds of exploding snap.


End file.
